“Why do the rains that fall upon me pour in such violent shades of color?”
I roam, barely recognizing my newfound reality as all of my energy is fixated upon seduction and gain. I move forward and throughout the saturated midnight streets without hesitation, lurking and scoping my surroundings for fulfilling opportunity and wholesome prey. (It all started with a seductress that went by the name “Johanna.”) Red Leather-Red Lipstick: Lips wielding RED THOUGHTS.
Riding.
Kissing.
Spanking.
BITING.
“OH, THE BITING.” A couple of drinks at “Lens” after receiving my tantalizing treatment from my red, shiny seductress Johanna and I am intoxicated, yearning for more. These overwhelming, animalistic feelings consume me, causing me to step outside, into the open. I must have fallen into some sort of trance, finding myself standing alone in a dank alleyway filled with vile disgust, having no recollection of ever leaving “Lens.”
“Had I been drugged?”
“Why was I having a lapse of mind? Was I still ‘Me’?”
I could feel such uneasiness and taunting rage filling my insides and hovering all around my confused existence as I stared up into the still night’s sky within my state of malicious mania, contemplating the disturbing thought that the feelings I was feeling were permanent, FOREVER. [TO LIVE FOREVER WOULD MEAN HAVING COMPLETE KNOWLEDGE OF ALL, ALLOWING ONE TO INDULGE WITHIN ENDLESS SENSUALITY FOR CENTURIES TO COME.]
Visions of Roman Emperors fucking and pillaging and Jesus dying for all our sins ran through my bewildered mind as I began to search for helpless souls driven by an uncontrollable, ravenous desire and instinct to feed and inflict pain. Oh, how the pain consumes me, whispers to me, commanding me towards a middle-aged woman whose whole body quivers with appetizing submissiveness.
“MAKE THIS PAIN GO WAY!” I pleaded to God for the discomfort to end. But it had only begun. Like a thrust of untamed adrenaline, I claimed the helpless woman’s innocence and fragile being, watching the river begin to flow from her punctured jugular as I took in my temporary relief to try and soothe my ballistic hunger.
To rip the flesh and feed from the innocent within this “state of being” is the only way, as the conflict between despising or admiring my newfound EMOTION makes me grin maniacally. (I can start to hear a voice.)
“You have a choice, my son. You can end all of this now and still have a chance for eternal forgiveness, or you can continue to feed “THE EMOTION” until it engulfs your total being and it becomes too late to escape.”
The astonishing speed and agility I execute rampaging the homeless up and down countless dank alleyways fills me, BECOMES me. I am everywhere and I can’t bear to acknowledge what I have truly become.
“All the strong will come together and I am now corrupt flesh, a form of Serpentine Madness that is no longer deniable.”
“GIVE ME THE FUCKING ALTAR!” 52nd St. I stare at a lonely old man as he lies upon a park bench without a care. Women are what I yearn for, but I must continue to feed and fill “THE EMOTION” at all costs. I view my still surroundings hypnotically, as my ravaging desire builds more and more unsympathetically inside of me.
[THE MAN. SETTLE FOR THE LONESOME MAN WHO WAITS TO BE PUT OUT OF HIS MISERY. CONSUME HIM.]
Step by step, I draw closer, smelling the man’s mortal fragrance as I stand over him, anticipating the moment when my craving will subside to a level I can cope with. NOW IT WILL HAPPEN.
“Freeze! Police! Put your hands on your head now!”
The undercover police officer barked like a terrified animal, as I could feel the fear inside of him, hearing him think to himself whether or not God was watching over him, protecting him from all demons and if he would ever see his peaceful, sleeping family again.The officer only remained still for a moment before unleashing his commendable onslaught of aggression upon me with impressive accuracy as I fell upon the frigid ground, unprepared for the burning that invaded my body so profoundly. There was bleeding, but no long-lasting ache as I rested still, waiting for my nemesis to load another magazine into his inferior protection and move closer. I rose in a cinematic flash, grabbing the lawful fool within a grasp of furious power and angst that made him piss himself and buckle like a trapeze artist who horribly misses his mark. (From behind, I could feel someone admiring me.)
“You’re new to these parts, aren’t you, sir?”
I released my grip upon the deceased officer’s famished body, turning my attention to a lone slender man standing just a few feet behind me.
“Don’t you think that you’re being a bit hasty with your actions, fine sir? You don’t even know this neighborhood.” The lone slender man spoke again as I could feel the undeniable anger rise higher and higher inside of me. The stranger began making his way closer towards me.
“What do you want from these people anyways, besides their lives, sir? There has to be a greater meaning to all of this, beyond the madness?”
“LET ME BE!” I barked like a scared, caged animal.The tall man continued to move my way, causing me to convulse with bewilderment.
“Why don’t you end my misery, sir?” The tall slender man was within handshaking distance, calm and collected.
“LET ME BE!” My voice rose with extreme ferocity.
“Why don’t you end my misery, sir? Take my life. DO IT.”
I lunged forward to make the slender man pay for his taunting, make him plead for mercy within his last dying breath, but what transpired was quite the opposite. (I was left for death, throat ripped from me and was handed my still beating, torn heart.) The slender man stood over me, accompanied by the aroused night; stained and dripping with the essential fluids from his recent kill. “Rookies; They are all bark and no bite”

My Mom is the absolute shit. Even though when I was child she would discipline me, watch my every move and not let me get away with murder; now I realize her heart has always been in the right place.

A single Mom early on in the game, my Mom dug deep and did what she needed to do to make sure I plenty of rare beef on the my plate, good clothes to wear and a very decent room over our heads.

My Mom was so beautiful, wonderful, making sure I was always taken care of, even though at the time, I could not appreciate the magnitude of her kindness; another great thing about my Mom was, when we were out and about, she would make sure I didn’t eat anything rotten.

My Mom always took me to great places and communicated with me even through the hardest times when I was confused, beside myself and wanted to run away; My Mom would even con me when I was constipated to drink a chocolate shake laced with prune juice to get me healthy again.

My fuckin Mom: Sometimes a little too high energy, but who am I to point to legitimate fingah and not a chicken fingah at anyone?

Back road drives, taking me to a magical place called The Grismill Mill and my every Friday run thru the drive thru at Burger King where my Mah would be screaming into the intercom to order.

“CAN YOU HEAR ME!” MY Mom was truly mentally ill on this level, screaming like a banshee, terrorizing the employee on the other end taking our order.

Back at our humble abode where my Mom’s taste and decor was always immaculate, we would hang out and watch TV and be one with the moment; Here is some poetic piece I would like to share about my Mah:

My Mom:

Love from a blessed soul always outweighs grief of any magnitude.

(My Mom is my greatest strength.)

So stunning she is with her glowing, pristine beauty and her unconditional love. My Mom always lends ease when I struggle to find purpose within my sometimes rattled mind. (I can always envision my Mom’s compassionate blue-eyed stare upon me whether it rains or shines.)

From the earliest days of lying in my hand-made cradle, I can recall my Mom checking on me, lifting me up, holding me within her caring arms. My Mom would whisper such quaint, simplistic syllables of understanding and comfort inside my impressionable ears. (There was no wrong.)

As I grew older, I recollected upon hearing a herd of wild horses the day after I survived my first night. My Mom was there to comfort me through the fear, through all of the unknown.

My Mom, with God’s blessing, is my Creator, my power to carry on. Always here and never lost, forever within my beating heart.

My Mom has stood by me time and time again and always when the smoke clears, showing immense love that is undeniable. Our relationship only grows stronger, more honest, more pronounced. I love you, Mom. You are my everything.

It is absolutely appalling how an organization; if that is what you want to call the #NFL , can suspend someone based on hearsay, speculation and the notion of, “More probable than not”. The NFL is a tax free carnival and only good for one thing; Sunday liquor sales. Tom Brady should retire the best Quarterback to ever play the pathetic game of football and thank God and Liberace above that the National Football League is not our judicial system. Please repost, retweet and comment.

In the best interest of the over extravagantly priced vacation home, I cup the slabs of the freshest recent victim upon the marble fucking countertops; Fuck it, keep the deposit; I AM IN THE FLESH.

To the wine cellar I deliriously and unhealthily wander, wondering if anyone was going to join me, be with me, ACCEPT ME. But time is ticking like the curse it had become; Being brutally blunt with me; “You are fucking alone!”

So, to the wine cellar already, reminiscing about the hot, rich snatch I once hungered within, and the thought of all of their after world moisture, fucking within the moment.

“TO THE FUCKING WINE CELLAR!” I sense the collection is superior, fixating upon a vintage bottle of Barolo that pleads to be plucked; Grab the “Iron Fist in the Velvet Glove”, a fine Barolo, and get upstairs to get on with your diseased feasting.

Yes, that obsessive, carnivorous disease had begun to haunt me, consume me, control me, making me the heathen I had BECOME.

“Best make sure I indulge deeply.” Out of the wine cellar, back at the tattered marble kitchen counter, properly beginning to decant my fine Barolo, I begin to poetically throw piece after piece of new human I had been preparing down the gullet. I am ill now, wandered in the forest well after the mid night hour and it DEVOURED ME, making me false promises. I would feel nothing. I see into my own regret and anger, as I progressively begin to chomp more and more obsessively upon each salty, bloody piece of recent kill.

“OHHHHHHHH!” I bellow in semi sharp evolving pain, grabbing for a crystal glass to hedonistically throw back my Itailian delight; Barolo, aggressive, seductive, course, rustic, elegant. I nose the glass and timeless juice meticulously, taking in each profound scent and essential character; Acidity that pairs perfectly with that that hearty entrée with a sublime tannic mouthfeel. Earth, depth, exuding a forever memorable persona. I begin to become one within the fresh flesh, cursing the outside illuminated moon, giving it the cursed finger; exclaiming things were going to become one with me; THE DEMONS SOMETIME PREVAILS.

Hello to all of my friends and family and please reserve my collection of new slanted stories; I truly pushed the envelope this time around; Intended for Mature Audiences:“I was screaming inside of myself, losing grasp of my logic and slipping sanity, hysterical within an internal fit of anger and resentment. A slight cryptic chuckle comes from above.” Click on the pic to view more.

“For the love of riffling it to synthetic cyborg things on a gloomy MidWest day?” PORK PLASMA

“Jesus Johnny. You don’t go to a fucking BAHMITZFA with a bunch cocktail wieners and no greeting card!! Ingested Pork Plasma

“Drink the clear woodsy treasure out of the clear bottle and go with the immediate. If you end up in Maine on #FryeIsland , tell them?” ~ YOU NEED PORK PLASMA!!

You need the woods, the delectable beast in the realistic furry costume looking for the ultimate lumber. Before long, you are on desolate road in the middle of the fucking Everglades. You are terrified and the goddamn thing that pops out at you that looks like the ‘Swamp Thing” from the 80’s, jumps out on you from an amphibian den and you lose your fucking mind under a spell of chlorophyll delight. Balls you trip, feeling the love from genderless beings filled with insecurity and grief.

“Give me what I need man!” I am fed up with all of the pacifying. Give me the cure, comfort, SMOKY ~